


All The Joys of Sartheno

by Wecanhaveallthree



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 11:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21298388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wecanhaveallthree/pseuds/Wecanhaveallthree
Summary: An ongoing story. As the T'au tighten their grip on the Nem'yar Atoll, social and political unrest threatens the fragile order of Sartheno. Acting together, an agent of the Ordo Hereticus, her retinue and unlikely allies must uncover the dark heart that beats beneath the capital, lest all fall into pestilence and ruin at the Archenemy's insidious touch.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	All The Joys of Sartheno

The shuttle _Crassus-33_ dipped out of a high holding pattern, its sober grey hull strobed a brief crimson by the marker-lights of watchful drones. Far beneath glimmered the lights of Sartheno, whose eternal sprawl and endless rains made aerial transport a preference of dignitaries and social elite as they travelled between the city’s mansions, spires and courts. Despite boasting the latest in civilian-available avionics and engines, _Crassus-33_ and its sister ships still took several hours to cross a full length of the city’s disparate districts.

For some, Sartheno encompassed the entire world. They would live, love, and die without seeing even the border districts, much less beyond the walls. Even for those who believed themselves well-travelled and cosmopolitan within the sub-sector, Sartheno seemed a vibrant hub of commerce and culture.

‘Cosmopolitan’ certainly seemed the applicable word to describe the accommodations and habitats that had recently come to dominate Sartheno’s skyline. Great domes of midnight blue competed with Ecclesiarchy steeples and Administratum edifices. Gentle spires now stood opposite formal residences of the rich and influential. Alien architecture twined amidst the long-standing Imperial like the roots of great trees interlinking. It was not subtle, nor was it intended to be.

_We grow together._

It would be impossible to deny this was the case. Sartheno’s occupation by the T’au Empire had been a boon for all, from the lowest menials in the border-districts who now enjoyed consistent hab-block heating and the mass distribution of rain-capes to the noble houses and banking cartels enrichened by new trading routes and markets hungry for post-Imperial goods.

The shuttle’s sole passenger relaxed deeper into the plush couch that dominated the shuttle’s fuselage. Fit for a full complement of socialites to gossip and scandalise in comfort with unobtrusive safety tethers for turbulence or unexpected manoeuvres, no expense had been spared in the construction and upkeep of _Crassus-33_. Nor was obtaining the service of a luxury shuttle in the realm of even middling merchants - they were the sole domain of the rich, the influential and the powerful. Conglomerates were formed for the sole purpose of obtaining shared use and title of just one such ship.

A smile danced across her face.

It was not a pleasant smile. It was the mock-grin of a jungle predator that distracted from the bunching muscles and coiling tail that signalled a fatal leap.

Inquisitor Eris Marran looked harmless enough at a distance. Shorter than the human galactic standard, willowy where others would have filled out with muscle, she would not have looked out of place serving as a majordomo or House secretary. With her black hair up in an uncomplicated tail, dark trousers and a white blouse buttoned with polished brass and cinched at the wrists with copper, she was every inch an unobtrusive professional attendant such as would be found at any gathering of upper society.

And the disembarkation of such a woman from a luxury shuttle, alone, would cause no end of speculation and gossip. Which was the point, after all - keep them talking, keep them looking away from the real target.

The smile widened - then vanished as the lounge’s vox-set chimed. ‘Down in two, ma’am. We’ve got clearance. Landing grid is mostly clear but a few stragglers and the on-site say they’re mostly done with the introductory speeches. Fashionably late, no entourage, as requested. You’ll make quite a splash, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied, voice husky with a lifetime of lho. ‘I shall commend your flexibility and discretion to House Chaii.’

‘Much appreciated, ma’am. Have a good night.’

The vox clicked off. The shuttle banked gently, the inertia compensators humming as they worked.

Passing through the layers of drone security, _Crassus-33_ navigated the authorised path with easy grace, the shuttle’s thrusters angling and firing to allow a smooth descent towards a clear blister large enough to hold a dozen such craft comfortably. It nestled against the far larger dome of its parent structure - the new-made Auditoria, intended as a meeting ground for all the races of the Greater Good to come together in comfort and companionship, finding common ground and strengthening their bonds.

A section of the blister swung away to permit the shuttle entry, gliding shut on near-invisible rails behind. A green beacon flashed on a docking pad close to an umbilical passage leading to the Auditoria itself, where _Crassus-33_ settled with all the care of a dame-fowl on her egg clutch.

Eris stood, smoothing out her blouse. After a moment, while sensors confirmed atmosphere suitability and content, the lounge’s private embarkation portal opened, a ramp telescoping down to the landing pad. A rich combination of scents - hard rain, atmospherics, hard-working air purifiers - greeted her as she left the shuttle. Nobody else did, as she had planned - but already eyes were turning her way, surprise and interest that the ground crews working the shuttles did nothing to hide, jealousy concealed poorly behind scorn by those dignitaries who had shared a similar ship with a group of their peers. Comm-beads would already be buzzing with questions.

She paid no heed to the disorder in her wake as she marched towards the passage connecting the outer blister with the Auditoria. An attendant in a smart black bodyglove nodded to her and activated a panel, the obscuring plastek sliding away to admit her.

It was like stepping into another world.

A world of shocking informality. The T’au, for all their consideration of caste and hierarchy, understood that at least the appearance of equality should be maintained. The Auditoria’s roof was masked in a projection of colourful night, where stars of impossible colours cavorted. Cunningly-installed lumens shone down from towering foliage, transplanted from alien planets to carefully-cultivated turf that neither broke at a footfall or stained the expensive clothing of those present. Lanterns swung overhead, born by the ever-present drones. Hidden projectors piped in a pleasant, foreign melody.

Around tables laid with exotic fruits and meats from across the Empire - clearly labelled in several languages, with allergy and nutrient warnings - were xenos of a dozen different stripes. Grey-furred Nicassar turned their lambent orange eyes, bright with mischief, on Kroot hooting with laughter at some unintelligible jest. A low-set pool pumped with warm, thick fluid held the rolling mounds of the green-skinned Galg, their eye-stalks questing about them while burbling in their own tongue. Vespid danced high above, their wings forming a soothing undertone to the unseen music.

Eris could not help the revulsion that squatted low in her gut. A lifetime of fear and hate was not wiped away by a single peaceable evening. Worse still were the humans who walked, talked and laughed with their new -- she could not bring herself to think of them as allies. With their new _masters_, the conquered making much of their conquerer’s benevolence. Licking the boot and calling it freedom.

She showed nothing of the sickness she felt, moving towards a meeting of xenos. A member of the T’au Water Caste, tall and slender, exchanging pleasantries with a diminutive demiurg, the latter still dressed in ceremonial banded clan-armour. Scrawled across the plates in alien runes were a millennia-long list of ancient grievances done to the alien’s ancestors, oaths sworn to be avenged lest the spirits of the dead never find peace. As she approached, the two exchanged a bow, and the demiurg walked away without a backwards glance. A proud people, and committed, and within the bounds of acceptable abhumans - it would have been far better for the species to have joined itself with the Imperium rather than the Greater Good.

The T’au turned to face her, his expressive features lighting with approval. ‘Eris,’ even his voice radiated warm and humour, and she could not help but feel the disgust she harboured diminish at such an open greeting. ‘I did not think you would come yourself. It is welcome to see you again.’

‘Clearthought,’ she replied, answering with a grin of her own, ‘Wouldn’t think you’d say that, considering when we parted last I’d just threatened you with a gun.’

‘It was understandable,’ the T’au brushed it away with a meeting of his hands, the of-no-moment gesture. ‘And I am grateful for your aid.’

‘How is Por’la Kaimas?’

‘Recovering well. The mind-helpers believe that it was the only thing that inhibited her full healing. It will take time, but she will be returned to full health, thanks to you.’

‘And Quist. Don’t forget him. He’ll sulk otherwise.’

The T’au blinked and looked about, confused. ‘Is he also in attendance?’

Eris waited for the Water Caste envoy to register the jape, waiting for the realisation to dawn in his eyes. Though the T’au were, on average, shorter than baseline humanity, their gazes met almost level. It was one of several things that helped Eris anthropomorphize the xeno, to relate to the envoy as a human, even though his skin was a deep blue and the robes he wore were a tailored indigo-and-gold replete with T’au symbols of office.

There was a danger in that, too. Too much familiarity and it would be difficult to pull the trigger when the time came. The Water Caste were trained manipulators, each and every one. No interaction with them was without risk: of overplaying a hand, of revealing more than one should. The disarming innocence, respect and warmth, were more likely to be social weapons than a real feeling.

Clearthought’s eyes narrowed. ‘He is not here.’

Eris kept her mouth straight by an inhuman effort, imitating the alien’s flat tone perfectly. ‘He is not.’

The effort grew too much. She burst with laughter, a rasping roar that only magnified at the understanding that spread across the T’au’s face. Humans and xenos both halted their own conversations to stare, open-mouthed, at the modestly-dressed woman making an envoy of the Empire the butt of a bad joke. There was tension, then, the stretching of emotions - for many there understood the razor-thin margin the current peace rested on.

If the envoy took offence, a single word or gesture would bring the ochre-clad Fire Warriors stationed discreetly about the Auditoria to bear, and the woman who insulted him would be quietly shepherded away - to a re-education camp or worse.

But there were many reasons Clearthought had risen to his post and prestige. Not simply a dedication to the Greater Good, but an earnestness that had vexed - and pleased - his instructors and superiors in equal measure. He had not been assigned to the Atoll or to Sartheno by whim or mistake.

His flat features contorted in something close to a grimace. Then an uncontrolled snort. And then he, too, was laughing, throwing his head back, scalp-lock shaking with mirth.

The tension vanished. All around, human and xeno both turned back to their own affairs, the noise in the Auditoria rising back to its previous volume. Eris wiped a tear from the corner of one eye, then beckoned a passing attendant with a tray of beverages over to pick out a sweet local nectar. The crystalline decanter was warm when she passed it to her recovering companion, who accepted graciously.

‘Few speak so plainly as humans,’ the T’au smiled after a long drought. ‘We T’au often find our honour and pride too valuable to taint with irreverence. You would not do as well to tease a member of the Fire Caste in such a manner.’

‘I’ll tease whomever I please,’ Eris replied, ‘As the Terran playwright Shakespire recorded in Remus and Jolanet, ‘Men’s eyes were made to look and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man’s pleasure, I.’’

“There have been some whose positions have been subject to change, however. That is the reason I requested your Inquisition’s presence at this gala. The information could not be trusted to messenger or courier drone. We walk a fine line of mistrust and co-operation, as you know. If the knowledge were to slip out, the position of the Empire here in the Atoll would be compromised. Even become untenable.’ The T’au handed the decanter back, his mien serious. ‘You understand, yes?’

Eris nodded. The time for play was over. ‘Orders from above are clear. This is no longer a matter of vague policy. Those I answer to have commanded that the Atoll remain strong. The situation in Ultramar is tenuous. Denying the Archenemy here is vital.’

‘The Council reconvened. The Black Ships may be permitted to return.’

The Inquisitor nearly dropped her drink. ‘What?’

‘It required a great deal of argument and concession, but the decision has been made. We can ill-afford another mind-science event like Dantalos Square or the manifestation within Eagle Row.’ Clearthought looked away, as though the words were hard to say aloud. ‘We believed we could contain your so-called ‘psykers’. We believed that it was an issue with how your Imperium treated them. We believed we could do better.’ His eyes closed a moment, then opened again, hardened. ‘We failed. We have no mechanism for this. The situation will only worsen if we do not allow your Black Ships to come again.’

‘Will you need assistance from the Anathema Psykana?’

‘No. We are working on isolating those who display talent in the mind-science in closed facilities. We have told them it is for training and examination. They believe us. They are filled with relief that they will not be given to the Ships. Your Interrogator was right when he spoke of necessity - I did not comprehend it then. I do now. If there were another way…’

Eris reached out a hand to the T’au’s arm unconsciously. She did not draw back. ‘Chaos is a poison. You can’t reason with it. You can’t be benevolent. And these poor souls, they’re a gateway for it. Some will find life in service. The others… they could not be saved.’ She squeezed, gently. ‘Believe me. They could not. I’ve served the Ordo for long enough to know that.’

‘I do.’ His eyes lifted to meet hers, and the gratitude in them hurt her heart. ‘Thank you.’

‘Think nothing of it. Orders, remember?’ She released his arm.

‘Of course. Orders.’ A thin smile. ‘The coldest of comforts.’

‘Speaking of.’

Eris looked around for a nearby attendant to signal for another beverage, and found none close by. She hadn’t known what to expect when answering the envoy’s request for a meeting, but there were rare enough times a member of the Holy Ordos had occasion to mingle with high society and enjoy the fruits protected by their unceasing labour. The message Clearthought had conveyed was an important one - and surely it could wait an hour or three while she browsed the buffet.

Besides, to leave with unseemly haste after a quick meeting would be scandalous. Why, it was a noble effort on her part, truly, to spare the envoy such salacious and affronting talk.

The T’au cleared his throat politely, drawing her attention away from the dining tables. ‘There is one other matter. A trifle which I hesitate to concern you with. I had expected…’ the gesture of words-not-spoken-in-haste. ‘Someone else.’

‘An underling, you mean? A minion? One of my shadowy associates to play cloak-and-dagger with?’

‘Of that nature, yes.’ Abruptly, the conversational tack changed. ‘I had not expected you to be so familiar with these events, I confess, though I have little but my experience with the, ah, _frugality_ of the Fire Caste to draw on. You must have spent much time in Imperial society.’

Ah. The probing. The seeking, dressed up as casual conversation. The appropriately awkward switch: easy to put off as naivete or innocence, particularly after a moment of supposed vulnerability. Yet what harm was there in it? It was a simple prize to give, and one that may very well buy another concession down the line. What use a past but to prepare for the future?

‘Not as much as I’d like,’ Eris confessed. ‘The Ordo Hereticus is the youngest of the Inquisition’s children. We have the most to prove - and so much of my time has been spent down in sewers and chasing over rooftops for cults and lodges, rather than unwinding intrigue and corruption in the Noble Houses. We watch the watchers, true, but we never seem to catch as many of them as we do indentured slaves and manufactorum workers.’

‘So you are no stranger to menial tasks, then.’

‘Sometimes it _only_ feels like menial tasks.’ She waved her hand, dismissing the coming objection. ‘No, go on. I’m here, and if it’s something that can be resolved quickly, then the sooner it’s done.’

‘There is a matter that requires… some discretion.’

That piqued her interest. Sharply. ‘Amongst the steadfast T’au? And I assume this can’t be resolved… internally?’

‘It would be a matter of great shame if it were to be uncovered, yes.’

‘And it involves a member of your Caste, I imagine, or it wouldn’t be coming from you - or to us.’

‘Very perceptive, Inquisitor.’ That earned another smile from the Water Caste envoy. ‘A superior has lost something dear to him and wishes it to be returned. He believes it has been taken by the son of a human merchant, and as you are aware, Sartheno may be quiet for now - but the forcible arrest and prosecution of a human noble by our authorities would reflect poorly on many. It could provoke lingering hostile sentiments. And as you have said, this is a time for unity, not discord.’

‘I did say that. So what’s been taken, then? Cargo shipments? Are we dealing with smugglers here, or licensed goods? I’ll need any relevant shipping manifests, but I can guarantee we can return any misappropriated merchandise quickly and quietly - and ensure the merchants in question are suitably chastened.’

‘It is not cargo or a question over shipping,’ the T’au replied. Was there a hint of a flush to his face? ‘He has reported the theft of his daughter.’

Eris was quite glad that she hadn’t managed to find another drink in the meantime. The results would have been wonderfully inelegant.

‘His _daughter_? By a merchant’s son?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are aware that she may not wish to be returned, yes?'

Clearthought ducked his head, though Eris could see the flush deepen. '_Yes._'

'Throne preserve us.'


End file.
